


A Moral Lesson

by fatal_drum



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Begging, Blackmail, Cruising, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Humiliation kink, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slut Shaming, here I am in the trash can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 10:07:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19003597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/pseuds/fatal_drum
Summary: “Oh, Doctor. It truly grieves me to see how low you were brought by your desires.” Hickey shook his head, though the smile had not left his lips. “Not, however, as much as it would grieve our captain. I have a feeling he would find it utterly deplorable.”-Mr. Hickey witnessed something shocking. What will Goodsir do to buy his silence?





	A Moral Lesson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [willowbilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowbilly/gifts).



****Goodsir was alone when Hickey strolled into his surgery. His hands were tucked insolently into his trouser pockets, and he was whistling a faint tune. Goodsir thought he might have recognized it as one the sailors sang some nights, when the rum was flowing and everyone’s thoughts strayed to warmer times.

The sight of Hickey put Goodsir’s teeth on edge, as it often did,  though the man had done nothing to earn his ill will. There existed something in the sparkle of his eyes, or perhaps the cruel twist of his mouth, that made Goodsir deeply uncomfortable. The worst part was that he had a sinking suspicion Hickey was more than aware of his discomfort.

For a long moment they stood silently, Hickey smirking at Goodsir as he maintained the pretense of attending to his research. Finally the silence had dragged on long enough that Goodsir could not restrain himself from speaking.

“Good evening, Mr. Hickey,” he said, as warmly as he could manage.

“Good evening, Doctor.”

Goodsir felt himself color slightly, growing hot in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “I—I’m only an anatomist. Not a physician.”

“I’d wager you are more than knowledgeable in...anatomy,” Hickey said, quirking his head to the side. “What are you working on?”

Goodsir found himself caught off guard, freezing for a long moment before he looked down at the sheaf of papers in his hand. “My, er...observations. On the fluctuations in climate in our little corner of the world. It will be important, later.” If there was to be a later. If Goodsir’s notes ever made their way home to England. He held precious little hope of that, and even less for himself.

Hickey took the opportunity to perch himself on Goodsir’s work table, looking as if he had every right to do so. Some irrational impulse urged Goodsir to flee, as ridiculous as it was. He could survive Hickey taking liberties with his workspace. Furthermore, it would be unchristian to dismiss a man who might require his assistance.

“It’s on nights like these that I find myself missing England,” Hickey said, apropos of nothing. “Don’t you? I always found England to be the coldest and most dreary place in the world. Now it seems suffused with warmth and sunlight. Isn’t that strange?’

“It is...natural to idealize that which we are missing,” Goodsir said. “Particularly when we find ourselves so far from home.”

 _“Natural,”_ Hickey echoed, an amused expression crossing his face. “Now there’s a good word. It brings to mind, of course, that which is _unnatural._ Unnatural desires, for example. I don’t know if you know this, but there are many men in England who harbor the most appalling appetites. Were you aware?”

Goodsir felt his pulse begin to race, and prayed it did not reflect in his coloring.

“As a man of science, I am...aware...of many variations between men.” He swallowed, licking his lips. “One cannot understand what is virtuous without understanding what is not.”

Hickey smiled, highlighting the small creases at the corners of his eyes.

“Many of these abominable men congregate in dens of filth and vice. Saint James’s Park, for example. Do you know it?”

Panic gnawed at Goodsir’s viscera, and his hands trembled so hard the papers he clutched rustled faintly. Hickey looked down at them curiously, and Goodsir willed himself into stillness. He was only partially successful.

“You see, Doctor, I think you know exactly what sort of _nasty_ business goes on in Saint James’s Park. I can tell from the guilt in your eyes, and the color of your cheeks. Did you stumble there, on your path to virtue?” His smile widened into a mocking grin. “Perhaps you were trying to teach a moral lesson to those brutes.”

Goodsir felt the flush in his cheeks grow deeper as he remembered the shame of those long nights, the illicit thrill of giving himself to strange men, of letting them use his mouth and other parts for their amusement. When he finally slunk into his own bed he would grant himself the release they so often denied him, caught as they were in their own sordid pleasure, and he would recall the callused hands digging bruises into his hips, and hear the echoes of their coarse grunts and cries of lust.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Goodsir tried to say, but his voice cracked in the end, hoarse with guilt.

“Oh, Doctor. It truly grieves me to see how low you were brought by your desires.” Hickey shook his head, though the smile had not left his lips. “Not, however, as much as it would grieve our captain. I have a feeling he would find it utterly deplorable.”

“W-what are you saying?”

“I just mean that it would truly _pain_ me if I were to be forced to share this information with our captain. If I were to keep your secret to myself, I would be doing you a great service, wouldn’t I?” Hickey raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Goodsir said, knowing himself to be a liar as well as a man of depravity. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, and he blinked them away, praying they would go unseen.

“What would you do for me to keep your secret, I wonder? What would you be willing to give me?” he asked, pinning Goodsir with his cold blue stare.

“What do you want?” asked Goodsir bitterly.

“Come here,” said Hickey.  

Goodsir walked toward him, one halting step at a time. When he stopped short, Hickey beckoned him closer, until he stood between his splayed thighs. Stood so close that he could feel the heat of his body.  

“I think you’d do anything to keep your secret from getting out, Doctor. I think you would do a great many things,” Hickey said, hands drifting to Goodsir’s shoulders. “Why don’t we find out?”

Without warning he seized Goodsir by the hair and crushed their lips together. Goodsir nearly jerked away in shock, but Hickey held him fast, prying at his closed lips with his tongue and biting down hard when Goodsir failed to open them in time, so hard he tasted the coppery tang of blood. Goodsir parted his lips meekly  then, allowing Hickey to explore his mouth at his leisure. He was surprisingly skilled in this endeavor, and the movements of his tongue sent sparks of pleasure down Goodsir’s spine.

Finally Hickey pulled back to stare him in the face, granting him precious room to breathe.

“Y-you would have me conceal my depravity by pulling myself further into sin,” Goodsir accused. He was breathing hard. Harder than he should have been.

Hickey laughed aloud as if Goodsir had told him the most incredible joke, grinning from ear to ear.

“You can call it whatever you like, Doctor, as long as you get down on your knees.” He reached up to cup Goodsir’s cheek. “If you like, you can tell yourself you had no choice. That you aren’t desperate to see what I’ve got between my legs, to taste it in your greedy little mouth and swallow it down.”

Goodsir felt the first stirrings of humiliated arousal between his legs. He shifted, trying vainly to conceal his erection, but Hickey reached down to grasp him possessively.

“This can be pleasant for both of us,” Hickey murmured, squeezing him so hard Goodsir nearly yelped.

“Did you like getting fucked by strangers?” Hickey’s voice was rough as he opened the catch to Goodsir’s trousers. “Did you feel you were getting what you deserved?”

Goodsir whimpered as Hickey’s cool hands grasped his cock, because he _did_ deserve it. He deserved it all: the pain and the bruises and the hollow feeling in his chest when he awoke the morning after. A stronger man would have gone to the rope for his crimes rather than relive his wickedness.

Goodsir was not a strong man. He slid to his knees, and Hickey dragged him by the hair, forcing his face against the seam of his trousers. Goodsir could nearly taste him through the thick wool, could smell the tantalizing odor of his manhood, and he trembled.  

“I think you like being used this way,” Hickey told him, still gripping Goodsir’s hair in one hand while he opened his trousers with the other. “I think it makes you feel better about being a little whore.”

Holding Goodsir in place, he rubbed his hard cock against his face, leaving a smear of pre-ejaculate on his cheek. Goodsir shut his eyes, trying not to take a deep breath, nor to savor the scent of arousal in his face, but he couldn't stop his mouth from watering.  

Hickey traced the line of Goodsir’s lips with his cockhead. The taste of salt was left in its wake as he marked him.

“Open up,” he ordered, and Goodsir parted his lips, taking care to cover the edges of his teeth.

“I saw you there, once. That’s how I knew,” Hickey told him, pushing the tip of his cock behind Goodsir’s lips, just barely touching his tongue before pulling out again. Goodsir licked his lips and tried not to feel disappointed.

“You were so nervous, showing the whites of your eyes like a skittish colt, and those soldiers could smell it on you. They knew exactly what you needed.” Hickey pushed in a bit deeper, groaning at the movement of Goodsir’s tongue.

“You needed a firm hand. And finally someone gave it to you, a hulking fellow who could have broken you in half. He grabbed you by the shoulder, hard enough to bruise, and you followed him like the _slut_ you are.”

Hickey thrust deeper into Goodsir’s mouth, forcing him to swallow hard or risk choking. More salt dripped onto his tongue as Hickey shuddered and rolled his hips.

“He had you then and there, scarcely hidden among the trees. He had the biggest prick I’d ever seen, and damn if your eyes didn’t _light up_ as he whipped it out. _Fuck!”_ That last bit was prompted by a particularly hard swallow from Goodsir, coupled with a stroke of his tongue. Goodsir felt himself hardening further as he suckled, even as the shame of his memory washed over him.

“He barely even let you get it wet before he decided to fuck you, on your hands and knees like an animal. How you keened as he worked it into your little arse one brutal inch at a time. He looked like he would split you in half, and you were loving. Every. _Moment."_

Goodsir moaned around Hickey’s cock, recalling the feel of the stranger’s prick inside him, how it had stretched and stretched him until he thought he might break. How the man had shoved his face into the dirt and used Goodsir’s hole for his own satisfaction.

“I’d never seen such a desperate slut,” Hickey growled, hips pumping as he made rough use of Goodsir’s mouth. “You let him have his way with you, and you spent your seed before he did, untouched, spilling onto the bare earth. Such a brazen little whore.”

Hickey shoved him away, pulling out to tug at his own prick with sharp, rapid jerks.

“You want it in your mouth, don’t you, whore?”

“Yes,” Goodsir said helplessly, watching the fluid pearling at the tip of Hickey’s cock.

“Beg for it,” Hickey snapped, hand moving faster and faster, threatening to spill at any moment.

“God, please, please spend in my mouth,” Goodsir babbled. “I want to taste it, need to swallow it down, _please_ let me—”

Hickey grunted, snatching Goodsir’s hair again and pulling him back onto his cock, just in time for him to catch the first bursts of fluid on his tongue. Goodsir groaned gratefully, swallowing every drop and laving Hickey’s spent cock until he pulled out.

Before Goodsir knew what was happening Hickey dragged him up by his hair and pushed him against the table. He staggered, and Hickey grasped Goodsir’s prick again, squeezing him harshly until he spent inside his trousers.

When it was over, Hickey leaned against him, forehead to forehead. They panted against each other, sharing a moment of startling intimacy which was at odds with the filthy nature of their encounter.

“Next time,” Hickey said, “I’m going to fuck you until you scream.”  

It took a disgracefully long moment moment for Goodsir’s mind to process his words.

“—next time?”

Hickey chuckled. “Did you think you could buy my silence with such meager coin? For shame, Doctor.”

With a hard pat on the cheek, Hickey dismissed him, wandering off with his hands back  in his pockets. Goodsir watched as he left, listening as Hickey whistled the same insolent tune.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, @willowbilly! And thank you for betaing your own birthday fic. XD <3 
> 
> St. James's Park was a well-known cruising spot in the Victorian era. Oh, the things you uncover in research.


End file.
